


Breathing's Just A Rhythm

by starlightwalking



Series: synchronize into a love you've never known [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: (kind of), Anxiety, Dirty Talk, Idiots in Love, Laws and Customs Among the Eldar, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Premarital Sex, horny not-technically-teenagers but they're acting like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:43:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26423578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: Maitimo and Findekáno sneak away from their chaperone and explore the limits of what they can do to each other before their marriage. (It might be easier if they asked someone who knew more about the Laws and Customs and what makes a marriage bond, but when have these two ever taken the easy route when they could be stubborn idiots?)
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Series: synchronize into a love you've never known [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906702
Comments: 21
Kudos: 82





	Breathing's Just A Rhythm

**Author's Note:**

> I can't call this sequel to [my Fake Dating AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26206864) "long-awaited" since it's been less than a week since that went public, and I started writing this before I even finished that, but...here you go! There will be more to come in this verse, I have lots of ideas, and lots of [song lyrics](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VhvA9iJM0Ko) for titles :)
> 
> CW for a brief panic attack toward the beginning of the fic - Maitimo is anxious and overthinks things, but everything works out fine.

“Is it just me,” Findekáno mumbled between frantic kisses, his hands roving all over Maitimo’s body, never staying in one place for long, so _maddeningly_ teasing, so wonderfully _possessive_ , “or have we had— _ngh,_ do that again, Russo, _Eru_ —even less time to ourselves since we stopped being so dense about each other?”

Maitimo was too busy nibbling at his ear to give a proper response. He bit down sharply at the pointed tip, and Findekáno _moaned_ in a way that went straight to his groin.

“It’s as if— _ai,_ Russo, your mouth, what you _do_ to me!—as if they _knew_ all along we were only playing at being in love, I mean, at least on the surface, and now that I know you love me they’re conspiring against us—”

He broke off into a long, high-pitched noise that could only be described as _keening_ as Maitimo gave into the temptation of several months now and slid his hand up Finno’s robes to tweak at his nipples. He knew the kind of reaction he had when he touched himself that way, and he was even more wildly, joyously aroused than he had been to hear-feel-see Findekáno coming apart in his hands. One thumb still playing with bud on Finno’s chest, Maitimo slipped his other fingers further down, feeling the jut of his beloved’s hip, the heat radiating from his pelvis— 

“ _Russo_ , I’m—you can’t—” Findekáno grabbed his wrists, blue eyes dark with desire, and stopped him from moving his hands any further. “Russo, we _can’t_ —”

Maitimo had barely realized he was so far gone, and he flinched out of Findekáno’s grip, shame overcoming him. It wasn’t—he knew Findekáno wanted him, in every way, and he wanted Finno just as much, but they weren’t married yet, and if they went and did the deed _now_ , still half a year from the wedding, everyone would _know_ —!

“I’m sorry,” he stammered, “I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, don’t apologize!” Findekáno exclaimed, drawing him close, hugging him tight, folding his fëa around him like a comforting blanket. “Russo, it’s—it’s hard, for me too, and I was only encouraging you, but...we _musn’t_ , not yet.”

His throat tight with anxiety, Maitimo nodded. He wrapped his arms around his betrothed, then dragged them into Findekáno's bed and slung his legs around him for good measure, never ever wanting to let him go.

“Still,” he whispered, hating how small and fearful he sounded, “I shouldn’t have...”

Finno wriggled until Maitimo loosened his embrace enough for him to lean back and stare at him. He gave Maitimo a kiss—soft, close-lipped, _chaste_ —and smiled, gentle love radiating from him so that Maitimo could not help but feel calm and safe.

“Someday, _very soon_ , melindo, we will be able to do whatever we want with each other’s hröar,” he murmured. “You can touch me wherever you’d like, drive me wild with desire, feel in my fëa just how much I want you, taste my sweet release...”

Maitimo huffed, rocking against his beloved, already losing himself just from Finno’s soft words in his ear. “Finno,” he whimpered.

“Russo,” Findekáno sighed in return, leaning close to mouth at his neck, grinding against him with barely constrained eagerness, and Maitimo _yelped_ , because that really _would_ undo him—

“Finno, if you don’t want to—if you don’t want me to—” He couldn’t get the words out; he was too embarrassed to admit how terribly far gone he already was, to acknowledge the filthy, holy thoughts and feelings he possessed, even as he tried to warn his lover. Surely Finno could _sense_ it, feel his fëa unguarded and free, surely he didn’t need to _say_ it—

Finno released him, only to ghost his mouth across Maitimo’s own, nipping at his lower lip. “If I don’t want you to _what_ , arimeldanya?” He _knew_ , Maitimo knew he knew, but he didn’t let up, and his eyes gleamed with a hunger to hear the words.

“I’m—you’re going to make me—” He choked, blurting out at last: “Finno, you’ll make me _come_ if you keep doing that—!”

“And would that be so terribly wrong?” Findekáno murmured, shifting so he pressed his knee against Maitimo’s groin, going back to savaging his neck, and Maitimo—he _couldn’t_ , not _now_ , “You _just said_ —” he gasped out, writhing beneath his lover’s touch.

“But I’m not touching you, technically, not _there_ ,” Findekáno reasoned. “You’ve come because of me before, haven’t you? Touching yourself, pretending it was me? I know _I’ve_ done the same, with my mind full of _you_ ; and that doesn’t make us married. This isn’t much different, is it?”

But Maitimo was panicking: this was all happening far too fast (as much as he _wanted_ , desperately and immediately) and even as his hröa was overwhelmed with sensation he felt his chest tighten and tears spring to his eyes. Findekáno quickly realized something was wrong, _truly_ wrong, felt the panic sparking from his fëa, and he froze briefly before falling out of Maitimo’s arms with guilt and horror plain upon his face. Maitimo _sobbed_ , because _no_ , he didn’t want Finno to go _away_ , just to _slow down_ —

“Russo, Russandol, I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry,” Findekáno cried, his voice cracking. “Oh, damn it all, I’ve gone and ruined it, this is _exactly_ why our chaperones never let us wander off like this—!”

“Finno,” Maitimo croaked out, “don’t go, please don’t go, please come back and hold me!”

Findekáno hesitated, for the first time since they had confessed the depth of their love not rushing to his side. “I—I don’t want to make it _worse_ ,” he fretted. “If I can’t control myself—”

Maitimo’s breathing grew more labored, and he shuddered and wept in a way he hadn’t since he was a child. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_! he berated himself. Why couldn’t _he_ control himself? Why was he acting like this? What was _wrong_ with him?

“ _Please_ ,” he begged, not knowing anything except that he needed Finno’s arms around him, and this time Findekáno acquiesced, curling up close to him and holding him gently, like he had when they were friends and cousins and nothing else.

Slowly, slowly, Maitimo came down from that anxious high. His breathing evened out to normal, the trembling ceased, and he was suddenly exhausted as if he'd been running all day. He leaned back into Findekáno’s embrace, feeling him there, solid, real. At last he turned to give his betrothed a kiss, soft and sweet, a thank you for staying by his side in this and in everything, brushing briefly against his mind to express all he could not say.

“I’m sorry,” he began again, but Finno hushed him, pressing a finger to his lips.

“There is nothing to apologize for,” he murmured. “On either account, I hope. We...we simply _want_ , and it is not too much or too deeply, and knowing that soon we will _get_ what we want is driving us mad.” He cupped Maitimo's cheek fondly. “Oh, Russandol. Not so very long ago I despaired at the thought of losing you, of coming so very near to what I so desperately wanted and then having you torn away forever...and yet you are here, and you feel the same way about me, and that is a blessing I would wait another thousand centuries for.”

Maitimo made a small noise of disagreement. “That's far too long. Immortal we may be, but we are not immune to harm, and being kept from you for that long would harm me more than I could bear.” He almost added some faint joke about following his grandmother to Mandos, but decided that was in poor taste. He could never do that to his Finno.

“I want you so badly,” Findekáno admitted. “Before, when I thought I could never have you, it seemed an impossible dream, but now that it is inevitable...” He shivered, leaned into Maitimo's chest. “Russo, you drive me wild. I—there are so many things I want to do to you, for you to do to me...”

“Finno,” Maitimo whispered. “Finno. I—I want you too. It terrifies me, how much I need you.”

Findekáno slipped out of his arms onto the floor, and Maitimo let out a wounded noise.

“It’s alright, I’m here,” Findekáno murmured, resting a hand on his knee. “I just—I thought—I had an idea.”

Maitimo reached out, grasping his hand. “Oh, dear,” he said faintly. “Last time you said that you ended up tricking me into falling in love with you.”

“This one is even better.” Findekáno’s smirk was downright _wicked_. “We’re not allowed to touch each other...”

“Yes,” Maitimo agreed slowly, his heart beginning to speed up again, but this time in excitement.

“I mean, I don't _think_ we would count as wed if I wrapped my hand around your cock, or took you in my mouth,” Finno said, so frankly that Maitimo let out a choked sound. Oh he _wanted_ , how he wanted that, and to give Finno the same! But he was frightened, what if he did it poorly, what if Finno was wrong and that _did_ make them married, what if—

But Findekáno wasn't done. “But we are princes of the Noldor; we should be careful. And unless we ask our parents what the limitations are—”

Maitimo grimaced, his arousal flagging at the thought. “I think my father is trying to pretend the day will never come when we consummate our marriage,” he admitted. “Although if we got him drunk enough he might regale us with some stories...”

“I would rather die,” Finno said solemnly. “But anyway: I do know how to pleasure myself, and I know you know the same.” He tilted his head, eyes sparkling. “Why don't we give each other...a demonstration? So we know what to do when the day comes, at last.”

Maitimo forgot how to breathe. He nodded vigorously, embarrassed at how quickly he felt the blood pooling between his hips. Surely Finno could _see_ the bulge in his pants, feel the burning desire in his fëa—but that was rather the point, was it not?

“Yes, yes,” he choked out. “If I can't have you now...I can at least see you lost in thoughts of—of me...!” Still he wondered, marveled at the thought of Finno yearning for _him_ , his touch, his lips, his cock...!

Findekáno groaned, releasing Maitimo’s hand to palm at his own erection. He made quick work of untying the laces, and he smiled, eyes blown wide with lust and never moving away from Maitimo’s face as he reached down and freed himself.

Maitimo’s breath caught. He’d seen Findekáno’s cock before, in public baths and on swimming trips, but that was before their scheme, before their engagement, and never had it been like...like _this_. Slowly Findekáno stroked himself, his mouth falling open slightly, slicking his palms with drops of precome.

Maitimo wanted to kneel down and lick it off him, but even had that been a possibility at this point he wasn't sure if he could move. He felt paralyzed, unable to look away, even to take out his own cock.

“Ohhh, Russo,” Findekáno whispered. “You look so beautiful like that, riveted on me, absolutely consumed with desire...you shine, melindo, you _glow_ , you're gorgeous, Maitimo, my love...”

“Finno,” he croaked.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Finno breathed. “Tell—tell me what you want to do to me. Tell me what you _will_ do, when we're wed and there’s nothing stopping us from devouring each other...”

“I,” Maitimo attempted, but the words caught in his throat. _I want to taste you. I want to clean your cock with my mouth. Want to swallow you down ’til you're the only thing I can feel. Want you to come down my throat, want to know you so deep, have your seed within me..._ He'd dreamed of that for so long, and it—it might even be _possible_ , even now, but he wasn’t sure, he didn’t know, but to say it out loud, he couldn’t, _couldn’t...!_

“Tell me,” Finno urged again. “Russo, I can see it in your eyes, and someday soon I’ll _know_ , your thoughts will be mine and your desires also, but for now you need to _tell_ me...!”

“I want,” Maitimo whispered, “to—to touch you.”

“Touch me where?” Finno asked, releasing his cock for a moment.

Maitimo swallowed. “Your...your hips,” he said faintly, and watched as Findekáno obediently gripped his own waist. “Want to...hold you tight. And then I would...I _will_...touch your thighs...”

Finno kept one hand gripped firmly on his hip, letting the other trail down between his thighs. “And?”

“And then...your cock...I’ll wrap my hand around you and...just hold you for a moment...” He shivered. “You’ll lean against me, and I’ll pull you close, and then I’ll...I’ll...”

Findekáno gasped as he grasped himself, leaning into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed. Suddenly Maitimo was lost for words: he felt dizzy, overwhelmed by the eagerness with which his betrothed followed his every whim. He couldn’t wait for their positions to be reversed, for Finno to be telling _him_ what to do...surely Finno would excel at that, certainly more than he did.

“Russo?” Findekáno prompted. “Are you...do you want to stop?”

“No!” he said quickly. “I’m just...you’re just...” He gazed helplessly at the nér before him. “How am I supposed to tell you what I want when the answer is _you_ , all of you, everything?”

Findekáno surged up to kiss him, and Maitimo moaned into his lover’s mouth, but it was over too soon, and Finno settled back down on the ground, both hands between his legs this time, not quite touching his erection. “Do you need some help?” he asked, his voice rough with desire. “Do you want me to tell you what _I_ want you to do to me?”

He nodded. “Please...!”

“I can’t show you,” Finno murmured, “because what I want...I can’t do to myself.”

“You want me to...” Maitimo began, and traced his tongue over his lip.

Findekáno shivered. “ _Yes_ ,” he whispered, tugging on his cock ever so lightly. “I want you to take me in your mouth, use your tongue on me, suck me until I can’t think, and—and take me down your throat, if you can, until...” He hissed, trembling, his strokes becoming more and more insistent. “Until I come...!”

“That,” Maitimo rasped, “would be...amazing. To serve you... _taste_ you...” He locked eyes with his betrothed, and Finno’s mouth opened wide. “I want—your seed—within me, in my mouth...f-filling me up ’til I can’t...keep it all inside...”

“Ai, _Russo_ ,” Findekáno cried softly, and doubled over, robbing Maitimo of a good view as he came. After a moment he shuddered and forced himself to sit up again, a dreamy look in his eyes, satisfaction radiating from him, his hands dripping with his own release.

Maitimo stared. _He_ had done that. _He_ had made Finno come, or at least _helped_ , with his words, with his fantasies...!

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said softly. “Finno, I...I love you. So much.”

“That was...wonderful,” Finno breathed. He looked down at his cupped hands and stifled a laugh. “Do you want this?” he teased, and Maitimo’s mouth went dry.

“Um,” he said, “are you...what if _that’s_ what...binds us...?”

Findekáno sighed. “I don’t think it is,” he said. “But I don’t know. You’re right. We said we wouldn’t...touch each other. We shouldn’t risk this either. Just...give me a moment.”

He scrambled to his feet and rushed over to the small washroom adjacent to his bedroom; a few moments later he returned, shirtless, with clean hands and a few rags, which he tossed casually on the bed next to Maitimo. “For you,” he said with a wink, and grinned, eyes bright. He was stunningly beautiful like this, nude but for his jewelry, and the way Finno _looked_ at him—

Maitimo’s mouth went dry, and he _whimpered_ , his own cock throbbing in his pants. Why was he not naked below the waist like Finno? If he was deriving so much pleasure just from watching his beloved, how could deprive his own visage from Findekáno?

“Can I...” he asked, and Finno’s eyes widened.

“You want me to command you?” he asked softly.

Maitimo nodded, unable to say the words, but needing, _needing_ Finno’s guidance.

Findekáno grinned. “I can do that. I am Káno, after all, as much as I am Finno...though I warn you, I want the same.” He tilted his head. “Take your pants off.”

Maitimo stripped, groaning with relief as his aching cock sprang free. He went to touch himself, but stopped, hands hovering a few inches away, as he looked desperately to Findekáno for permission.

Findekáno’s stared at him, licking his lips, and Maitimo whimpered as he imagined what that tongue would feel like on his most sensitive parts.

“Finno...” he pleaded. For a moment Findekáno leaned forward, and Maitimo’s breath caught: was he going to do it? Was he going to throw caution to the wind, ignore the rules they had set, take Maitimo in his mouth? He thought he might come the moment he felt Finno’s lips on him, he wanted it so _badly_ , and yet he shook with terror, not wanting to ruin this, afraid of what could go wrong—

But Findekáno restrained himself, swallowing and leaning back on his heels. “Eru, you’re beautiful,” he rasped. “Fuck, you look delicious. Russo, I—how are you so perfect? I didn’t think you could be _more_ attractive but you—you’re _gorgeous_ , love.” His closed his eyes briefly, then said firmly, “Take your shirt off.”

Maitimo stripped with a haste he didn’t know he had, until he, too, was nude and trembling before his lover. He wore significantly less jewelry, just his betrothal ring and a few piercings in his long, pointed ears, and he wished suddenly he could rip the necklaces off of Findekáno’s chest and drape them over himself, just to feel a little less bare.

“Oh, Russo,” he breathed. “You’re beautiful, vanimelda, so pretty, your hair shines like fire, you’re so perfectly shaped, like a vision from my dreams, made just for me...and so hard for me, dearest, I can see just how much you want me...!”

“Finno, can I...?” Maitimo begged. Focus on that, focus on how much he wanted to close his hand around himself and pull, lose himself in the rhythm he knew so well—because if he paid attention to Finno’s words he would go mad, he knew it. He, the beautiful one? How could that be, when _Finno_ knelt before him, naked and glorious and bright, the most desirable thing in all of Arda?

“Yes,” Findekáno said at last, giving him mercy. “Yes, touch yourself. And—and tell me, will you, what you want _me_ to do to _you_.”

Maitimo groaned as he gave in to what his hröa wanted, losing himself for a moment in the bliss of a tight fist, the naked relief of stimulation. But then he recognized Findekáno’s words, and he shook his head, eyes squeezed shut.

“I...I can’t,” he croaked. “Finno, you...”

“Do you want me to touch you?” Findekáno mused. “Take you in my mouth, like you’ll have done with me? Or...you touched my nipple, earlier. Is _that_ where you want my lips? My tongue? Or at your neck, you did like that so; or your ears, you can’t seem to get enough of mine...”

Maitimo had long since lost the ability to form coherent sentences. He moaned, long and low, at Finno’s words, each of his lover’s suggestions sending a new rush of desire through his hröa. His fëa ached, reaching out, trying desperately to twine with Findekáno’s—and that was just as dangerous as the physical union, he realized hazily, this spiritual need to become _one_ with him, to be really and truly wed.

Findekáno trailed off, his eyes glazing over, and for a brief and wondrous moment Maitimo felt his fëa brush against his own—but then Finno drew back, shaking his head, agony writ clear across his face.

“Oh, Russo,” he breathed. “I want that, I want it so _terribly_ much, but we have to wait...”

Maitimo huffed, letting go of his cock and leaning down to kiss his beloved, drawing Finno close with sticky palms. Finno kissed him desperately, but tore himself away, eyes still dark with lust. Maitimo smiled to see him hardening again, already; _I did that,_ he thought giddily, _he wants_ me _, and no other!_

 _You, you, only you,_ Finno whispered back, and Maitimo didn’t even feel embarrassed that he’d left his mind so open because this was _Finno_ , his betrothed, his soon-to-be _husband_ , who would know him so deeply and intimately in only a matter of months.

“Russo, don’t think about _me_ ,” Findekáno chided, his eyes sliding appreciatively down Maitimo’s well-formed body and finally fixing themselves on his swollen cock. “Or—or _do_ , but for your own sake, vanimelda. Please, please, Russo, tell me what you want, tell me so I know how to please you on our wedding night...”

“Anything you do would please me,” Maitimo rasped, and it was the truth, but—he could not deny he’d dreamed of that sacred moment, before he’d even admitted to himself he wanted it.

“You’re so beautiful, you’re so _big_ ,” Findekáno murmured, still staring hungrily at Maitimo’s erection. “You’ll—you’ll have already tasted me...do you want to bury yourself within me? In my mouth? Or—” His eyes fluttered half-closed, and he reached a hand back to cup his ass. “...somewhere else?”

Maitimo squeezed his thighs together and _whimpered_ , leaning back against the bedframe. He wanted that, yes, _yes_ ; if he’d still been tugging at his cock he could’ve come at the very suggestion, though his fist was surely incomparable to what he imagined the tight heat of Finno’s hole to feel like...

But in truth that was not how he pictured their first time joining together like that. He wanted to be inside Finno, he did, but first—

“Actually,” he murmured, watching as Findekáno gently probed at his own entrance, gasping as he pushed a finger in, “I’ve—I was thinking it would be...a little different, the first time.”

Findekáno’s eyes flew wide open, more excited now than he’d been the entire time—which was saying a lot. “Oh?” he squeaked, and it was not easy for Maitimo to voice his desires, but if that was what it took to make Finno look and sound like _that_...

“I want you to...” He shook his head, remembering that this _would_ happen, this _would be real_ , and he couldn’t help but take himself in hand once more, stroking himself to the same rhythm as Findekáno, who was thrusting into his left fist while his right hand explored the space between his buttocks.

“You _will_ ,” Maitimo tried again, and Findekáno groaned at that, a faint wave of his desire for Maitimo to _command_ him washing over him. “You _will_ ,” he repeated, firmer this time, “lay me down on your bed—no, _our_ bed—and you’ll undress me, and you’ll be so...so gentle, and loving, at first, but you’ll get so excited—we both will be so excited—that you’ll tear the last of my clothes off me while I’m ripping yours off you...”

“What will you be wearing?” Findekáno asked, his voice pitching higher than Maitimo had ever heard it.

Maitimo grinned. “It’s a surprise, arimeldanya. I wouldn’t want to ruin it for you.”

“Then you shan’t hear a word of what _I’ll_ be wearing, either.” Findekáno sniffed, but even as he teased he let loose a breathy hiss of delight as he crooked the finger buried within himself and a sharp burst of pleasure radiated from him to Maitimo. It was horribly brief, and Maitimo growled in frustration, wanting _more_ —wanting that from his _own_ hröa—

“But at last we’ll be bare before each other,” he continued huskily, “and you’ll kiss me, and t-take me in hand, like we’ve wanted since...since forever...and then you’ll reach down and...”

Suddenly he was trembling again, anxiety crawling up his spine and choking the words in his throat. What if Finno didn’t want what he wanted—what if it hurt, what if it wasn’t what he expected—what if he was bad at it, what if—

“Russo?” Findekáno prompted softly, and Maitimo shook his head, regaining control of himself before Finno felt the need to stop pleasuring himself and crawl to his side to comfort him.

“Just...overwhelmed, with how much I need you,” he murmured. “Sorry, I...”

“Russo, if you go on much longer I’ll come _again_ , and you haven’t had your turn yet,” Findekáno said sternly. “What do you want? I can talk instead, I know it’s hard for you, and if it brings you pleasure—”

“I want you to—” Maitimo licked his lips, closed his eyes, gathered his thoughts. He’d not confessed this fantasy of his yet, and while Finno had whispered of his desires to take Maitimo within him, let Maitimo claim him...he’d been too caught up in himself to admit that he wanted the same, wanted it so _badly_.

“I’m going to keep going,” he informed Findekáno, sliding off the bed so he was on his knees beside his betrothed. “But I don’t...I don’t want you to come until I do. Is that okay?”

Findekáno kissed him thoroughly, whispering, _Yes yes yes, please Russo, tell me what to do, command me—_

 _Quiet,_ he ordered sternly, and Finno shivered and fell back, mouth hanging slightly open.

“You’ll touch me, and I’ll touch you,” he said softly, resuming the motion of his hand against his cock, “in all our most...intimate places...” He felt a blush crawl up his cheeks and down his neck, and only the sight of Finno’s heaving chest, of knowing how much this affected him, too, let him continue without faltering once more. “You’ll be gentle, even when I grow desperate and harsh, and I’ll...I’ll beg you, I’ll _command_ you to—to get me ready for you—”

An image flashed in Finno’s mind, shared with him: Maitimo lying down on the bed as Findekáno slicked his cock (and he wasn’t _that_ big, he didn’t think; Finno’s imagination was more flattering than reality; or maybe it was just that Finno’s hands _would_ look that small wrapped around him—) and then Finno pushed himself up, hovering just over Maitimo’s erection, ready to sink down onto him—

Maitimo shoved the vision away: as enticing and arousing as it was, that was not what he meant.

“Finno,” he whispered, leaning close to nip at his beloved’s ear, “you’re so one-minded. Look into _my_ mind, dearest, see what it is that _I_ want from you...”

Findekáno whimpered; Maitimo could tell he was on the verge of release. He was, too—it would take only the smallest thing to push him over the edge.

“Russssso,” he hissed, and dove into Maitimo’s mind, looking for the vision he offered up.

In it Maitimo still lay on his back, but it was _Finno_ who coated his arousal in oil, and his fingers too, pressing them deep inside of Maitimo where no one else had touched, until he had Maitimo crying out and begging for more—

“ _Ai, Russandol_!” Findekáno cried, and leaned forward to bite down on Maitimo’s shoulder, shaking and shuddering as he tried to keep himself from spilling once more.

“I _will_ take you, and make you mine,” Maitimo rumbled, feeling his own release rapidly approaching, “but first...on our wedding night...I want it to be _you_ who takes _me_. I want you to bury yourself within me, I want to yield to you, I want to become yours utterly as our fëar and hröar embrace and become one...I want you to _fuck_ me, Finno, I want you to make me lose control of myself, I want to feel you spend inside me, fill me up with your seed, I want—”

He could’ve gone on, but Finno was crying now, and Maitimo’s own emotions overwhelmed him, and he met his beloved’s lips with his own, devouring his mouth as he finally, _finally_ fell over the edge and came, spilling over his hands and splattering messily across both their chests, and then Finno was coming too, their seed mixing together and splashing warm against Maitimo’s thighs, and he shuddered and groaned and drew his Finno close, not caring any longer that they were supposed to be careful about how they touched each other.

At last the buzzing in his head began to clear, and he realized Findekáno was mouthing slowly at his shoulder in a pleasantly painful manner that was sure to leave a mark. He was too happy to care; he _wanted_ that, he wanted people to know who he belonged to, beyond the rings they wore.

But that moment of bliss was over far too soon. He started back, terrified, realizing, _Oh no, we—we came_ together _, our release mixed, and I was thinking—we were thinking about our marriage, and—did we go too far? Did we—_

“Russandol?” Findekáno said in a small voice, and Maitimo realized he’d closed himself off. He shook his head to clear it, then looked up worriedly at his betrothed (please, please let him still be his betrothed and not his husband, not _yet_ , it was too soon—)

But Findekáno’s eyes, though shining with concern, looked otherwise the same, and when Maitimo examined his heart he found that his fëa was still alone and unbound to another, and while the evidence of their combined release was drying on his stomach he didn’t feel... _different._ He didn’t feel _married_.

“Oh, thank Eru,” he sighed, letting his thoughts fly free for Finno to pick apart.

Findekáno laughed softly, kissing his brow. “No, dearest, as much as we might want it...we are not married yet. I told you so—I don’t think it’s _that_ which binds us.”

“We should ask,” Maitimo admitted, as awkward as he was sure that conversation would be. “I don’t...I would feel better if we knew the boundaries of the laws and customs.”

“Aunt Findis,” Findekáno suggested. “She’s married; she’ll know, and she’s not...our parents.” He grinned. “I think I know what the limits are, dear one, and once my suspicions are confirmed...” He conjured a vision of himself kneeling between Maitimo’s legs as Maitimo writhed, pulling at his hair, fucking Findekáno’s mouth.

“ _Finno_!” Maitimo yelped, his cock throbbing with a fresh thrill of desire, though it was too soon for him to properly harden again.

Findekáno kissed him chastely on the mouth. “Don’t worry, melindo. I’ll wait until we’re sure.”

Maitimo took a deep breath. “I trust you,” he whispered. “I want that, Finno. I...thank you, for this. For stopping me, and then continuing, and suggesting we pleasure ourselves for each other...I wouldn’t have thought, or, or I wouldn’t have had the courage to bring it up.”

“Arimelda,” Findekáno said fondly. “Anything for you. And,” he added, eyes sparkling, “I can only imagine how wonderful my _next_ idea will be.”

“I tremble in anticipation,” Maitimo mumbled, and Finno laughed.

They held one another for a quiet moment, their slowly steadying breathing and the distant, erratic sound of Makalaurë’s harp as he worked on a new piece in a far-off corner of Nolofinwë’s home the only sound disturbing them. Maitimo felt a brief twinge of guilt for dragging his brother all this way only to abandon him at the first opportunity, but Findekáno was in his arms and he had at last spoken his desires for their wedding night and he couldn’t find it in himself to regret any of that. He turned over the vision of Finno making love to him in his mind, sharing it with his betrothed, and felt him shiver with anticipation.

“Is that...” Finno began, and if it hadn’t been _him_ , fearless, bold Findekáno, Maitimo would have thought he was embarrassed. “Do you truly mean it, Russo? That you want me to...” He licked his lips, his fëa gently brushing against Maitimo’s own, searching for the truth of his heart.

“To fuck me until I forget everything that isn’t you?” Maitimo blushed fiercely as he said it, but he smiled and trembled just a little at the thought. “Finno, I...I’ve wanted that since before I even admitted to myself that I loved you. I’ll gladly do the same to you, but for the first time...” He kissed his betrothed and whispered, _For the first time, I always dreamed it would be like this._

Findekáno let out a shaky laugh, burying his face in Maitimo’s shoulder. _I want that too,_ he admitted. “I mean,” he rasped, “mostly I want _you_ , any way I can have you, but...I would be honored, Russo, to make that dream real for you.”

“Thank you,” Maitimo whispered, tears budding in his eyes, though he scarcely knew why, except that Finno loved him and wanted him and treasured him and on their wedding night would take him and make him _his_. “You make me feel...” _Safe. Loved. Adored. Like you hold me in your palms and will always keep me close._

“I can’t keep my hands off you,” Findekáno hummed, wrapping said appendages around him and pulling even tighter into their embrace. Then he groaned as they both realized, perhaps later than they should have, what a mess they’d made between them. “Ugh. We should probably clean up, hm?”

“And find Makalaurë,” Maitimo said. “I think he’s still caught up in his composition, he might not even have noticed we ran off, but if someone _else_ does...” They were alone in Nolofinwë’s home, with only his brother there as a chaperone, but Makalaurë’s music was still too shaky, too arrhythmic for him to be anywhere near finished with this new song, and he was famously prone to forgetting all about the world around him as he worked.

Findekáno shuddered. “We may have avoided spoiling the wedding,” he said, “but I’d rather not be mercilessly teased for what we _did_ get away with.”

“Good thing we’re asking Aunt Findis and not Lalwendë,” Maitimo muttered as he reached for the rags Finno had brought out and began to wipe himself down. “Findis isn’t prone to gossip; Lalwendë is...well.”

“We’ll have to watch out for her wife, though,” Findekáno teased. “Elemmírë might just put us into a song if we’re not careful.”

“So might Makalaurë,” Maitimo grumbled, but he took a deep breath and smiled, helping his betrothed to his feet and then back into his clothing, listening as the distant sound of his brother’s music seemed to at last fall into a regular beat. “At least with Elemmírë we can count on a steady rhythm!”

**Author's Note:**

> Next up in this series: Finno's POV of the fake dating scheme. I can't promise it'll come as quickly as this fic did, so subscribe to the series to get notified when I post it!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please comment if you enjoyed!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/).


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